Light
by dream0fmirrors
Summary: Full summary inside. John Cena had it all,before an accident that leaves him horribly disfigured,which leads him into entering a mental institution home.There he meets a young girl,will she give him the strenght he needs to carry on?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: John Cena had it all-a good job, fame and looks, but after a break-up with the former love of his life he gets splashed in the face with acid and becomes horribly disfigured. The former Raw Superstar begins a life in isolation, resulting into him entering a mental institution home, where he meets a strange young girl, who claims she can see a person's future. Will this unorthodox creature give John the light he needs to carry on?

**Chapter one**

Mina…it rolls off your lips like a drop of summer rain, the name, Mina…as gentle as a blooming rose, sweet like nectar, pure and gentle like a sea-side breeze.

It's not just the name I loved once, it was _her_…a beautiful, charming, alluring woman with the sun in her long wavy blond hair and the sky kissing her eyes in a deep blue…it was her laughter, which seemed like an angel's song to my ears, her touch which was spring warmth and feather's caress.

At least, that's what I thought I saw, but as it seems, my whole life I've been blinded.

There once was a song that said "Beauty always comes with dark thoughts." by a Finish band I don't even remember liking. Somehow, that dark line runs in my mind a lot these current days.

Because the blooming rose has is thorns, the nectar is nothing but pure satisfying poison, the sea-breeze is as sharp as a dagger…the sunlight and the sky, they blind you with their fake perfection, tease you as you fall inside a pit of helplessness, then uncover to you that the spring is nothing more than a dry winter in disguise.

I don't know when I became so poetic…if an acquaintance even heard me now, they'd really think I've gone crazy.

Do _you_ think I've gone crazy? Maybe I have, or maybe it's just the hiding in daylight's shadows, that cold, distant corner of what once was a pleasant home, now seeming more like a steel cage, numbs everything else and sharpens your senses, causing you to develop a muse, a thirst for something distant, something pure, if only words.

I stay by the window, not wanting to look at the sky, not caring to reminisce, the tasty sorrow inside of me striking me like thousands pieces of blood-hungry glass, speaking to me, teasing me, laughing…

Yes, the last thing I heard that day was her laugh….

It's too clear for me now, it becomes clearer everyday to the point where I can't force myself to believe that it's just a fearful dream….maybe one day, it'll be too clear for me to handle, but for now, I somehow manage…

Every breath I take and every glance outside my window suffocates me and I, in a masochistic fashion drill it deeper into my being, as a wiser man saying, I feel the need to punish myself for my own fate.

xxxxxxxx

We were told we were a great couple, so perfectly completing each-other; while I was the strong one, she was my angel, calm and peaceful beside me, with a certain attitude that made me feel proud she was all mine. Mina, not just a typical supermodel, a true inspiration to any hungry artist's muse, she'd transform in front of my eyes from an innocent Lolita to a delicious temptress, from a stylish posh to a unwise street girl. She always knew how to make me laugh, she was the one I'd turn to when I needed help the most, but something went wrong, terribly, terribly wrong…

How can you find the right words to express yourself when you find out that life didn't give you a sweet strawberry, but a rotten apple?

A month after I had decided to give her my name, I found her in bed with one of my closest friends.

The pictures flash before my mind of that day; I yelled, she cried, everything felt out of place, out of touch with reality…I didn't want to make much of a fuss, I figured, there was no point in screaming out the pain I felt, so I quietly and discretely cancelled the wedding-ring I had ordered and set her free from my presence, from my love, from my dream….surprisingly, she didn't take it that well.

**Flashback start**

"Stop screaming and just get out of my house." I snapped, handing her a briefcase with her belongings and gesturing towards the door, trying my best to remain stiff, while inside my soul was dying

"John, don't do this…" She turned at me, tears falling down her doll-like porcelain face, attempting to hold me, but I jerked away and pushed her forward.

"I never wanted things to end this way…."

"John, I love you…what happened was a big mistake; I swear I never meant to hurt you…please… I need you…." Mina fought her way into my arms, and I, once more, pushed myself further away as possible, knowing that if I touched her, I'd die on the spot.

"Don't lie to me….you're pathetic…don't think I don't know what you've been doing behind my back the last few months. Get out of my face, you…" She grabbed the night lamp and smashed it on the floor, then gave out a helpless moan, while digging in her hair painfully with her long fingernails:

"Please, John…"

"Go, the cab is waiting…" I roughly shoved her outside, throwing her trunk outside the window and hiding my face behind the beautiful silk curtain. She walked away dizzily, crumbling down on her knees at the garden front, screaming my name, resembling at that moment a small child separated from its mother, her whole body shaking, unable to take those crucial few steps away from my life. The taxi driver came out of his car and practically carried her inside, trying his best to hold his ground and be professional about it, all in the same time, comforting. In his eyes maybe I was the villain, the sick, insane mind who ruined a lovely woman's life with fake promises of happiness…he and everyone else would soon know that the roles were switched.

**Flashback end**

From that point on, a part of me gave up love and happiness and drove me to seek a pleasurable life elsewhere, in alcohol, parties and women; a case of denying the obvious, if you will that it was life that cheated on me, not Mina.

It was only weeks later when I knew that something was wrong… working in my business, you'd tend to get followed around by paparazzi everywhere you go, but never before did I have the feeling that I was being stalked, even in privet moments, I could always feel someone watching. Not wanting to panic, I simply shrugged all fear aside with the thought that I was just being paranoid, for my own sanity's sake. Too proud to seek professional help, too foolish to answer to the advices that came from my friends and loved ones, too hopeful that things would somehow work out….

One night I was walking in my home when that rotten apple's poison sunk inside me…

I don't remember much of that moment, only a misty face, sharp, hysterical laughter and the pain….it was as if someone was pulling my skin right off my face, with razors for hands, twisting it…a fire exploded right around my eyes, digging to my insides, every inch of flesh burning and squirming roughly…I remember my own scream…an un-human scream, the scream of the animal I had become that one night….

When I came through, it was a week later, in a hospital bed with a needle in my arm, attached to a life-support system. I couldn't remember how I ended up there, my mind could hardly focus on anything at all…when I asked the people around me, they'd just turn their faces or walk away, as if, somehow, they were a part of something I wasn't, as if somehow I was in a different world, an un-normal world dripping in blood.

Some days later they took the life support system off, as well as my bandages, then quietly, a doctor handed me a mirror and a cheap magazine.

I can't describe to you what I felt next…

The horror of not recognizing your own face….

It wasn't me anymore, but a grotesque, appalling beast…an unseen before monster…as I touched my own cheek, feeling my blood freeze in my veins and chills climbing up my back, I felt tears forming in my eyes, the only part of my face that seemed humane. My glance slid towards the magazine, where on the cover was a face I had seen in my dreams and from that day forward, in my nightmares.

The headline was:

"_Mina Stoinovski, jealous ex, disfigures WWE superstar John Cena with pure acid…"_

The whole room shook with my cry as tears rolled down my rough cheeks and I threw myself backwards, every muscle in my body twitching, shaking my whole being, blood coming from my nose and mouth…

"Hold him down! We need some tranquilizers, now!"

"Please calm down, Mr. Cena…"

"It'll all be alright, we're here for you…"

I was discharged from the hospital only a day later….or what was left of me….

Until my last breath I will continue to curse this demon with an angel's face.

I was told she's still rotting in prison, but the cage she put me in was much, much worse…the cage of my own body, the one jail I could never break, not until I would live.

From that day forward, John Cena no longer existed…instead, in his place, was just John… a piece of a broken mirror, a leftover of a human corpse… a piece of rotting flesh, which only survived, not lived.

I locked myself away not only in myself, but in the place I once called my home, afraid to show myself in the light. My family was forced to take care of me; up until a point I couldn't even react to what was a real and what was a dream. I lost my job, my health, my strength…not living, just existing in the shadow of my own terror, gasping for my last stroke of sanity. I broke my connections with everyone, ran away from all that was light, pure and normal, in a jealous, hateful manner of the world's reality and beauty. As days past me by, I couldn't even leave my bed or eat a bite…I lived only on my own self-hate and misery.

Not so long ago, I was taken by force out of this fake four-walled dark world of dead dreams and fallen secret wishes and taken to a different type of prison where people with lost souls wandered around like living dead, teased and laughed at their own self-being, to a sick institute where all close to life was mocked and poked fun of.

"Welcome to your new home, John. Come on, let me show you your neighbor." Doctor Reye addressed me , walking me in a white room where everything close to reality had differed and hid away; as I passed by the door, I saw a crouched figure in the corner, hugging her legs and humming a song to herself. Noticing my movements, she rose her head up slowly and locked her gaze with mine.

A girl, no more than 19 years old with long, messy straight brown hair which fell over her swollen face, as pale as a sheet, so pale, you could see the veins beneath her skin….and a pair of big black eyes, which at first glance, terrified me with their unique beauty, resembling two tunnels with a distant, but extant light.

"Say hello to your new friend, Lane." The medic turned to her and she simply smiled with those small pink lips of hers; then said in an out-of place for her appearance glee:

"I've been waiting for you…"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Honestly, I'm pretty sure that John Cena has better things to do with his life than to read an angst fanfic about himself but still: All I own are the OCs.

**Chapter two**

I never did learn to deal with this disturbing, sickening place that was now named "my new home", never cared to feel for it or to seek the warmth that such a sanctuary could provide. You can put kind and pretty words around it, but all and all it's just a pitiful house of the damned, the ones cursed by God or any Upper Force you believed in.

The first week, I think, was the roughest.

I tried locking myself in my room to prevent anyone or anything of disrupting my isolation, the lifestyle I had learned to adjust to, watching life pass me by like seasons to a year, changing me as raindrops bothered a fast clear river. The doctors, however, were not so pleased with my decision and I later found out why.

The second day after my arrival in this Hellbound place, my door got knocked open and my lock was changed, then my key taken away. It was then when I first encountered a parade so fowling, so disrupting, it almost made me break down in tears, for a moment forgetting that I was the newest member of this inhumane prison so cleverly disguised as a hospital to tend to the weak and helpless. The different. The special.

What I saw were people with life drained from them, which a force, much like a bloodthirsty vampire had sucked right from each being's soul; I can never forget these pale, drained faces, the empty, spacey looks and the saddened shrieks, joined with a maniacal unneeded laughter. I felt shame at the eyes of these young creatures, so powerless, so cursed and at the same time, self-pity while knowing I could never escape them, not with the skin I now had, not with the living cancer around my eyes. I had known pain, I had seen sadness, but much bigger was the suffering of them, the ones who had never lived, the ones who never had the chances I did, never seen the outside world the way any person should.

I felt that if I get near them, I would suffocate on the mere breath that they gave out, that I'd stain them with my glare, a glare that seemed like an infection, the window to my ripped inner-being; but they wouldn't have it my way. I must admit, I underestimated them at first, figuring that they would be frightened by my beast-like face, but…not an hour went by without someone knocking on my door for a welcome or greeting. These poor, deluded minds craved for my love, my affection, my acceptance, but I denied them all, afraid of myself mostly, afraid of being close to another breathing being again.

I refused to eat in the cafeteria with them, so I was cared for in my room, routinely visited three or four hours a day by a thoughtful nurse, accompanied by my therapist, doctor Marylyn Brooke, a fairly average plump woman with a freckled face and curly red hair, with a childish charm and appealing smile. She'd always call me "John-joy", which within the next days became the new nickname along the other patients as well.

"Hey John-joy, how's our boy?" A by-passer would say to me, while I'd just block him out of my senses and look away.

Then there was Lane.

It was a Friday afternoon, the sun had just began to lazily set, blessing the sky with a alarming, yet beautiful golden color which kissed the nearby oak willow tree with a smooth, touching light. In seconds the picture changed into a pink sea of fire right behind my barred window, taunting me with its satisfied beauty and appeal. So bounded by the scenes at my front, I didn't seem to notice the door opening carefully and quiet, fearful steps creeping from behind me.

"Hey John-joy," A fragile, weak voice addressed meand I glanced from behind my shoulder, seeing only a hazed skinny silhouette and two beaming eyes landing at me with a warm, yet present mock.

"Ever hear of knocking?" I questioned roughly, as my un-invited visitor took a stance beside me.

"I see how you treat the people who are polite enough to do so, so I tried a different strategy." Was the care-free reply I received, just as the darkness embraced the room heavily, hiding both of our figures in its thick web, disguising the fear that beat in both our hearts within every breath, in every second.

"You actually thought it could work?"

"Well I got you talking to me, so I guess it kind of did." I turned to face her, breathing deeply the sweet scent of auburn that surrounded us, taking my time to absorb every tone of her simple sentence. When silence met her words, she felt obliged to keep on speaking:

"Why must you hide away, John? Life is never fun when you're all alone."

"Life? You're calling this life?" I snarled, appalled and abused by her obvious lack of empathy. "Locked inside a four-wall prison, being monitored every second and for what? Because of an infection you can't reverse?"

"Infection?" Lane seemed unsure; she shifted her eyes at me and slowly placed a hand on the window's side, resting her whole tiny body on the nearby wall, as if exhausted by the mere words coming out of her mouth. I stepped closely towards her, pointing an accusing finger close to my left cheek:

"Look at this. Look at this and stay away from me!" She never took her eyes off me, surprise filling her being, while she slowly tilted her head.

"You beautiful trapped soul…"

My face screwed up with the hatred of a hungry wolf, sinking his teeth inside a rotting human corpse; in a moment all of the pain, all of the sick, ugly boiling fire inside reached its limit, targeting the young girl and resulting in a repulsing shriek:

"Don't ever call me that again…stay out of my face, you got that?"

Her face was still hidden by the welcomed night's fall, however I could feel it darkening beside mine, struck by the arrows that were my harsh words. She placed her long hand on my cheek and half-whispered:

"I hear a melody… it'll bring you comfort. It's a bird, a white dove, besides a caged window…"

I shivered at her touch, as her hand was colder than Death itself, with its black pointy fingernails grasping at my side. I slowly took a few steps backwards then demanded in a quieter, calmer tone:

"Just leave. Now."

"Come soon to us, John. We're your family now." Lane shifted her eyes open and locked her hands near her chest, then walked away, her long hair floating behind like a flag. At that moment, I felt afraid of her and every inch of this place seemed small, uncomfortable, closing in on me, resembling a fist, slowly clutching.

But no more than a day later, I did hear a song…

I was laying in my bed, focused on ceiling upward, my being shaking with resentfulness, my mind focused on this parody that had turned into my life, when I heard it. A soft, heart-warming song with a certain melancholy, the type that makes you feel like a small child, carefree and wild, running at a sea-side. I stood up and turned my head towards the direction of the sound, inhaling and cherishing each and every chirp, while a strange numbness occurred to my limbs.

It was a white dove…white as a virgin snow, with piercing eyes that reached inside of me and had me up on my feet, awkwardly petting it with my shaking palm, feeling the relief I hadn't felt in months.

Why wasn't this small, innocent creature afraid of me? Was it too simple of a mind to see the beast before it, or was it a brave heart that gently shared its light down on my thinning soul?

And how did she know...?

I didn't see Lane until a few days later, when I was startled by an unorthodox commotion near my door. Voices were high; cries of childlike pain were heard, accompanied by a rough, confided yell.

"Alright everyone, back to your rooms! Leave her be!"

Unfamiliar with such an uproar in these usually calm days, I walked outside without even thinking it over, only to find Lane being walked down the corridor, strapped on with a safe jacket and staring at her front with an empty, thirsty glare. She looked my way and smiled in what seemed to me a wicked, blood-chilling way then passed me by, as if I was nothing more than a figment of her twisted imagination.

While the nurses were taking the white material off of her, I now understood why they never allowed me to lock myself inside my room.

On her hands were long deep red lines, right beside her blue veins, which even though were tightly stitched, still bled slowly, like red wild roses set on a chalk boarded, snow-filled grave.

I walked in after her, surprising even myself with this impulsive action and stood in the door way, staring at her back as she had kneeled in front of her bed with locked palms, seeing things that neither you or me could ever see.

"Why..?" I asked then, and she just chuckled:

"Being different is a difficult job, John, but someone has to do it. Someone has to live it. It's a real drag, you know?"

"I think I do…" I claimed, walking in and kneeling beside her. "How did you do that trick with the dove..?"

"I just see things …"

"You don't really believe that, do you?" I noted, trying to seem as comforting as possible. "You're just a kid, you shouldn't even be here. You should be out there, living the life of your dreams…"

"We could all be something different from what we are… everyone is given a fair chance, no matter who he is, but he also needs the will to take it. I never had that will before I came here." She explained, crossing her legs in a lotus position and resting her palms on her knees. "I never intent to end my life, I just feel the need to hurt myself, to punish myself about being so different, but the truth is, John, nobody has the right to define what we should be like."

"I've heard those things a million times, Lane…the pity talk."

"Then for being the millionth and one saying this, do I win something?" She smiled softly, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes. "Come on, just one smile, that's all I'm asking of you."

Her words were the definition of bittersweet; they pleased me, made me feel appreciated and at the same time, they hurt like Hell breaking loose its fire waters upon me. I rose up and walked away, but stopped at the door and said throughout a small sigh:

"Take care of yourself, kiddo."

And that night, the unimaginable happened.

For the first time in such a long time, while sitting by the window and glancing at the stars above, these small, twinkling diamonds in the rough, I did something I'd never forgive myself for.

I smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

"So this is Bobby, he's my buddy." Lane walked me down the cafeteria in a comedic manner; me, the strong and well-build giant, frightened like a toddler taking its first steps or a flower, blooming after a long, cold and distant winter. The little Lolita I had befriended hugged the man she was introducing me to, a male no more than 25 with an average body complexion, thick brown hair and small eyes with a chestnut color and mobile shape.

"He-llo, J-John…" he addressed me with much difficulty, emphasizing on every letter he spoke, as if it were a block of stone painfully ripping through his lungs "It's n-nice to meet…you…"

"Hey there Bobby." I replied in an unsure manner, carefully shaking his hand with my own, feeling un-worthy even at such a distant to be near this kind soul.

"Oh, and this is Jillian, she's the institute's beauty." A lovely vision with long straight blonde hair and amazing green eyes, the color of freshly bloomed grass walked over to our table, accompanied by two other males. She was fairly tanned, with thin, blood-colored lips and a fragile, yet complementing body. Every movement of her being was with such a grace, a rarely found style of a princess you only get to read about in the sweetest of fairytales. Jillian took a seat beside Bobby and playfully punched Lane's shoulder:

"Not true, I'm just like everyone else!"

"Nice to meet you, Jill." I nodded my head and she handed me her hand, which I kissed softly with my rough, dry lips.

"What a gentleman!" Jillian giggled, adjusting herself in her seat "Come on, have a seat, you don't need to be scared. We don't bite, well, except maybe for this guy." She tilted her head at one of the two newcomers, a twenty year old boy with four colors in his hair-black, blue, white and red, wearing thick black glasses. Lane hurried to present him to me as well:

"That's George, if you notice him checking you out, just know that he's gay."

"Oh shut up, Lae." George defended himself with a sly mock, before throwing his hair back and taking out a box of cigarettes and yellow lighter "Who here wants some?"

"Oh, over here!" Jillian and Lane both took the offered sweet poison, while the last guy at our table took it as a chance to speak up:

"Hey there, my friend, I'm Steven." He had short blond hair and deep grey eyes, an appealing smile that made you feel like you've known him for years.

"Don't mind Steve, he's a real jerk." Lane warned me, breathing the unhealthy smoke deep into her lungs. I sat down next to her and snatched the cancer winning pleasure from her stiffed lips, then smashed it with the tip of my shoe on the cold cemented floor:

"These aren't healthy, you know. You're much too young to be smoking."

"What IS healthy in this God forsaken place, John-joy?" George noted with clear amusement, while Lane just shrugged her shoulders and laughed:

"You're right! They drug us, hardly ever let us go out, spy on us with cameras…but if John says so, I can live without one smoke, at least for today."

"It's nice that you finally came out, John. The third-floor's group could use new acquaintances." Jillian turned to me, blowing a few steam circles out of the corner of her mouth.

"Joh-n is su-ch an n-nice….guy…." Bobby said, while Lane pinched his cheek:

"I know, I fell in love with him the minute I saw him." This seemed well-received by our small table, as cheering was heard from Steven and George.

"Thank God, Lane's finally getting along with a neighbor. The last few couldn't stand her, so they were moved to the fourth floor." Steven explained to me, while Jillian hushed him:

"Stop spoiling the moment, Steve."

Ten minutes later they served us lunch, a simple meal in both appeal and taste; with just one handful I could feel my stomach turn into several knots. We couldn't even make out if it was soup or some sort of rushed made delicacy, however, while most of us were doing our best with what we had, Jillian's manners were unfamiliarly odd. She'd cut her bred into extremely small pieces and sip her meal on loud, hard gulps, as if it wasn't food that was going down her throat, but a deadly, painful poison. I took a small glance around; a lot of people were eying me, some with spacey, meaningless glances like walking undead, others with shock and surprise; but most intriguing were the looks the nurses gave our table's beauty while she fed herself. After lunch, Lane took it on herself to give me the grand tour of the institution, something to which I was hesitant to agree on. I asked her about the weird events at lunch and she made everything clear:

"Jillian is anorexic, she has a fear of food. She's been in here for months and no one can get her to eat, that's why she's always supervised by a medic. Sometimes she has nervous breakdowns after a few bites."

"That's terrible…" I mumbled with the type of compassion you can only feel when you have a weakness yourself, a trembling of your own being "What about George and Steven?"

"George is alright, his parents sent him here, thinking that his homosexuality can be treated like a disease." My companion noted with appalling "As for Steven, he's a little slow…he can't read or write, his wife made him enter this home shortly after giving birth to his baby. I think she was trying to get rid of him."

"So how do things work around here?" was my next question

"The first floor is the children's wing, where kids with birth mental defects are forced to live. The second one is for temporary visitors, the ones that only need a few weeks of medicine, but can't afford it, so they have to stay here and be treated on the hospital's expense. The third floor is for people like us, people with problems and the forth…well it's for the really heavy cases, like for people who have lost all touch with reality. I advise you not to go there." The girl told me, while nodding her head at the direction of a nearby window "We go out for a breather every few weeks or so, in the garden, which is surrounded by a steel fence, and every step we make is monitored by the security. Our floor has group therapy today at five and Doctor Brooke told me she'll send me up a floor if I don't bring you along."

"Too bad, I'm gonna miss having my privacy invaded." I replied, while she just shook her head:

"Come on, Johnny-boy, it can be fun."

She probably didn't know the definition of the word "fun".

Fun is being surrounded by your loved ones at a huge celebration party, feeling the luckiest man in the world in the arms of your beloved, the warmth of feeling love cover you like a warm blanket on a chilly snowy day….by the fireplace…watching those flames dance in a exotic tease of a motion, feeling the strength you could do everything in this world, even touch the sky.

But now, having it all taken roughly away, I had to wonder, would I ever have fun again?

I decided I had no other choice than to accompany her in the group therapy session. She acknowledged my acceptance with a childish delight, unfitted for her outside appearance; but from what I could tell, you can never judge a person by their looks. The most beautiful flower could just as well be poison ivy; the roughest weed might be a life-saving herb with the sweetest scent, bringing daylight into your average being.

It was the first time I had ever attended therapy, so I wasn't sure what to expect. On the first floor, in a corner room aside from the children's wing, was a spacey premise where Doctor Brooke tended to me and some of my new acquaintances-Lane, Steven and Bobby.

"It's so nice to see you, John." Mrs. Brooke concentrated her gaze upon me, standing in the center of a human circle "You and Lane can stand over here." She gestured towards Bobby with her heavy hand and I took my place besides the boy, giving him a small wink as a greeting.

"Now, everyone, today we're doing a simple exercise. I'm giving you all a pack of little pictures which you have to sort out in groups on account what they have in common. It's easy and fun." The therapist claimed and Lane nudged my shoulder:

"Told ya."

"What exactly is the purpose of this?" I turned to my doctor, looking down at the childishly simple drawings, while the rest of my team began the exercise without so much as a second thought

"It's a test that shows your state of mind, John, with your abilities you'll be done in a minute." The therapist assured me softly and nodded at my pile "Please begin."

I spread the pictures on the floor beside me, touching each and everyone with the tips of my fingers, taking my time to soak up the images in my mind. Lane leaned next to me and whispered in my ear:

"Don't put a male with a female, or they'll think you're a sexual maniac."

I threw her a mocking smile and did just the opposite of what she told me, but as I held the female painting, something clicked inside my mind.

A face, a beautiful sun-caressed face with the wind in its golden locks and those two loving eyes, watching me, draining me, drinking me down to my numb core…

_Flash_

Another picture, this time of a lighter, I placed on top of the female….

_Flash_

Now the face had twisted and disfigured like a peace of plasticine, resembling a monster hidden behind a veil of vanity, with great white fangs, laughing at me…

_Flash_

There was laughter….

_Flash_

That face couldn't have been mine…

"No…" I felt sweat form on my forehead, as I dropped my assignment with trembling, moist hands

_Flash_

That pain, that un-human pain, much like the kiss of a razor taunting my features, caressing me, making me bleed inside….my yell that now seemed so distant….

That wasn't me….

That can't be me….

Who am I and who is this?

_Flash_

The fire inside of me grew stronger, suffocating me with its poison bitter taste, like a strong whip splashing inside my lungs, punishing me….

"John! John!"

My whole body trembled with sweat and in a daze, an unfocused state of mind I roared a wounded animal's cry, pushing everything and everyone out of sight, then running towards the window.

"This is not me!" I yelled, tracing my fingernails around my swollen red cheek "Get this away from me!" with my own bare fist I smashed the window glass and grasped with a bleeding palm the bars behind it, shaking them roughly, just wishing to run away, to hide from the pain, from that face….

Then I felt two figures grasping me tightly and pulling my pathetic bleeding form up, then strapping it on a wheel chair, while injecting something in my fast pulsing blue vein, on which I counted down every moment, every second of feeling so alive, before it all disappeared in a mist…a serene, comforting mist, like a loving mother's tender embrace it surrounded my soul with soft caresses, as I was being carried away with, the joyful state I was in then made me feel like I was flying high, like the white dove…

"Don't take him in there, don't hurt him!" voices clashed throughout my emptied head, while I drifted farther and farther into what seemed to be a dream of a wakened man.

"He needs our help, this has gone out of control…"

" John…."

The last thing I could make out was that terrified, trembling call of my name, to which I wanted to respond, for a second _"Don't take me away from her…"_

Before I knew it, I was strapped down on a metallic chair and something heavy and fowl-smelling was placed on top of my head. I felt confused, drifted away, like a piece of left-behind belonging, like a fading, yellowing old picture touching the floor for the first time….

"Now!"

…before getting stepped on, over and over again.

What followed was an experience I can wish to no one, not even to my greatest enemy. It first started out as a small tickle on my head and hands, but as time passed, the pressure became stronger…the electricity swept from the deepest corners of my mind then spread out like a bad plague throughout my entire body. With every pull of that trigger, I shook and twirled, with both pain and shock, I jumped in my seat at every direction, screeching pitiful moans of helplessness. One, two, three, four…I felt my heart stop and lost all touch of reality.

When I came through, I was lying strapped on to my bed, ironically just like when all was taken from me, needled in a life-support system.

"Hey John-joy, how's my boy?" my whole body screamed with pain, the mere breaths I took felt like heavy volcano brimstone, griddling down my tonsils. I couldn't move, my limbs were numb and felt like they were made out of rubber, the kind that created children's toys with. To think that such a pleasurable item could be used to describe this ugly sensation. With much force, I opened my eyes to meet Lane's yellow small face and those two wonderful eyes, which now shone with determination and love at the same time.

"What did they do to me?..."I half-whispered with a sore throat, adjusting my glare towards hers.

"You've been diagnosed as a schizophrenic and they treat that with electric shocks." Lane caressed my forehead with warmth beyond her freezing hands; she caressed me with her strong, fiery soul.

"This place is a madhouse…"I managed to mumble with much force "Did they ever do that to you?"

"No, but they did to Jillian just after they were finished with you. I got so worried; I couldn't even see how she was."

"How can they…she's just a kid…"

"Her parents don't care about her, they just want her out of their hair for good." Lane explained, lightly lifting my hand and placing it in hers, hesitantly, feeling unsure just like a baby bird before its first ever flight out of the comfortable nest; the sensation of starting something new filled the darkening room. I squeezed her hand in mine, then spoke weakly:

"You should be visiting Jillian. Why are you here with me?"

"I don't know." The sweet Lolita answered "Do you want me to leave you alone so you can rest up?"

"No…" to my own surprise, there it came "No, you can hang out for a little more if you want to…"

Lane lay on my bed beside me, resting her head on my shoulder and turning to the ceiling; I somehow managed to wrap my arm around her small weak shivering body and shushed her quietly.

In the end, when night came down on us, we were wrapped in each other's arms, glaring up with small hope and in fear, like baby rabbits hiding in a comfortable small hole, awaiting to be discovered by the rootless wild fox and put to sleep forever blessing their little souls.

"Don't worry, John, we'll think of something…"

But I was one step ahead of her; the plan was already forming in my dazed, but still active mind.

A/N: They really do treat schizophrenia and anorexia with electric shocks. I have a friend with such problems, so I know how most things in a mental hospital work. Lucky for her, when her parents found out about this, they took her back home.

A/N 2:Thanks for all the support,you guys!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

The rain…the great equalizer….the bitter, salty tears of the Virgin Mary glaring upon us from her almighty Heaven throne. The rain judged nobody, fell right when it had to, be it his receiver man or woman, strong or weak, perfect or just special. Like an angel's boat the clouds formed heavily around the institution, as if trying to protect the innocent souls that dwelled there. I was pushed on a wheel chair to the doorway by Lane, unable to move my feet from the electric shocks I had received the previous day. The little Lolita, the sunshine Lae never left my side and cared for me with a level of kindness and affection that surpassed any doctor or nurse. As we entered the garden, Lane smiled and handed me a black umbrella, then ran outside, throwing her head back and sprawling her hands, seemingly an effort to embrace the misty sky.

"I told ya it would rain, didn't I?" she shouted, spinning around under the clear water, raindrops gathering in her hair and dress like twinkling stars on a warm summer evening. I gave her a weak nod, continuing my thoughts.

The rain was so pure, with a goodness unseen in any human being. It would be cast upon us unexpectedly to wash away all the dirt, all of our rotting sins, then sink deep within the ground, as if feeling the shame of our own misbehavior, only to be reborn, as clean and loveable as before.

"Come on, Lae, you'll catch a cold like that." I shouted and Lane quickly ran towards my side, turned me around and pushed me back inside the hospital.

In my room I spent most of the day, drifted from this sick imitation of life that surrounded me, alone with my thoughts. Standing by the window, the smooth breeze carelessly caressing my sides and hair, I was instinctively reminiscing of the dove that had sang to me not so long ago, at this very same window, she soothed me with her beautiful melody of tears, warming up my heart in a flame of its free song, strong, unseen, yet gentle and lovely. It was dawn, and at that moment I was feeling thankful that the rain had stopped; I always enjoyed viewing the ever-teasing sunset, tempting me with its unbound embrace, calling to me, like an angel to a prayer.

I moved away from the window meekly, only to hear a sweet voice of a child, calling me with its own tragic song:

"_Everything's so blurry  
And everyone's so fake  
And everybody's empty  
And everything is so messed up  
Pre-occupied without you  
I cannot live at all  
My whole world surrounds you  
I stumble then I crawl"_

That voice, with the same edgy bloodhungry rough charm, now calm, peaceful and serene.

"_You could be my someone  
You could be my sea  
You know that I'll protect you  
From all of the obscene  
I wonder what you're doing  
Imagine where you are  
There's oceans in between us  
But that's not very far"_

As I rolled myself away into the last flashes of light the sleeping sun was casting upon us, I recognized her right away.

"_Can you take it all away?  
Can you take it all away?  
When ya shoved it in my face?  
This pain you gave to me  
Can you take it all away?  
Can you take it all away?  
When ya shoved it in my face?"_

It was Lane in her long white dress, bare feet and hair freely sprawled behind her head, as if to protect her from my preying, monstrous eyes. She walked in the garden and picked flowers, as in her other hand was a big wreath. The flowers needenth worry, each and every bloom that was touched by those long white fingers soon found a place in this botanic crown, while its little princess went on in a quieter, much bitterer tone:

"_Everyone is changing  
There's no one left that's real  
So make up your own ending  
And let me know just how you feel  
'Cause I am lost without you  
I cannot live at all  
My whole world surrounds you  
I stumble then I crawl"_

I leaned in the barbed window and with the corner of her big sphere like eye she noticed me. I hurried to move away and closed the window shut, but in a few moments two pebbles hit my only key to this world, the window's glass, scratching it a bit, but not braking it. I chuckled at myself and showed my face once more, only to get an even warmer greeting:

"Hey! I'll come up in a minute, ok?" she shouted and I nodded my head, not wanting to gain more attention that needed; people from the other rooms were starting to look.

True to her word, Lane came in my room, cheerful as ever, with a small black backpack on one shoulder and a charming, yet somewhat melancholic smile on her pale face.

"Hey, John-joy, how's my boy?" she asked, then placed her beloved creation, the wreath, in my lap. I examined it carefully; every flower complemented the other in a fashion that gave out the impersonation of a rich, heavily decorated crown of gold and diamonds. Like a puzzle, it was weaved so carefully that even the smallest stroke of grass fitted in its place perfectly. Lane threw herself at my feet and went on, taking much pride in her work:

"I made it for you. I know, it's probably junk, but to me it's always been a time-waster."

"It's beautiful, Lae, thanks." I placed the flowers on the drawer beside my bed, while the young female visitor opened her backpack and took out several items-CD's, a mp3 player, small mobile phone and a few books, before banging her fist to her hand and holing up a pack of cards with triumph well shown in the shining abyss that were her eyes.

"Look what I've got. Wanna hear your fortune told by a pro?"

"I don't believe in such things, Lane, I mean those are just cards." I tried to reason with her, but couldn't help but succumb to her perky nature; plus, to be honest, the days of my recent life went by in complete boredom, if anything, having a future told wouldn't cause me any harm.

I hardly felt I had a future to see, but me and my guest didn't seem to share that opinion. She arranged the cards on the top of my bed and remained a thoughtful gaze as she flipped them open, one by one; the scene was so petty, but it brought certain coziness into the evening, like toddlers playing by the campfire with sticks and rocks, but in their eyes, guns and soldiers. I moved my wheel chair closer, as the little Lolita seemed deeply entertained by what she was seeing.

"In the past, I see a great deal of nightlife, money, love…see, this is you." She pointed at a Jack of diamonds "And I see…a path you have turned your back to, an angel's calling for you…"

"Did it sing outside my window today?" Lane smiled softly at me and shook her head slowly:

"It's not me, I'm not in your past….I'm in your present…" she pointed to the second row of cards and continued "I see a bird in a golden cage and a hand, feeding it, ever so closely."

"That'd be you." I held her hand in mine and kissed the top of it softly, while she went on to my future:

"I see bright days lie ahead for you, John…I see an angel, a beautiful angel, taking you under her wing and bringing life back into your being."

"You're my angel now." I assured her, holding her cold phantom-like palm into my two rough ones, carefully and almost shyly trying to warm it up. She took a glance at the cards and shook her head with unexplainable sadness:

"That won't be me, John…"

I had grown to feel affection for the kid, warm, kind sensations grounded on our mutual feelings of need. In this golden cage, she was my only light and air, the cold hand that fed me the dose of life I needed before going completely insane, the same hand I'd give my body and soul to warm up and protect. My new sister and mother, too childish were our feelings of love to even be considered a sweetheart or lover, but, there they were, the blossoming emotions growing inside of us, bonding us with the thin, silver line of the stars, who prayed that our fondness will live on as one of their forever-told stories.

I'm starting to sound a lot like her, actually…

We talked all night about the most unorthodox things, sharing tales and swapping stories of both life and fiction. Lane spoke with such a passion, her sides for once color kissed and her movements graceful, mimics revealing her soul through two trembling hands.

She told me stars never sleep, but merely observe the human race from high above and recorded every person's story, every adventure, so that when you die and become an angel you could still re-live those moments high in the mysterious, everlasting sky.

Lane shared some of the music she liked with me, claiming it had saved her life when she first entered this institution. While we listened to those depressing tunes, I couldn't help but discover how beautiful in fact sadness was. How much sweeter is a glass of white wine when served with tears, a few heavenly drops down someone's drawn cheeks, cleansing your soul's never ending painful cry…how much tasteful is a meal made by your own two hands, the same hands that were burned in the cooking fire, bruised and cut by the meet knife, the hands that had inside of them both sorrow and strength, maybe even a hint of joy….how much more beautiful was the sunrise after an all night rain, stepping on freshly grown moist grass, observing and inhaling the scenery….yes, sorrow was beautiful.

As I prepared for the night, Lane helped off my wheel chair and onto my bed, then kindly stood by me with the music turned on, singing with me and hearing some of my best wrestling stories.

"I was lying down, just had received a Pedigree from Triple H, so I'm out for good. Hunt's right on top of me, and he goes for the pin, but then Orton kicks him over the head and wins, regaining his title as WWE champion." I went on with a strange maschohistic enthusiasm, feeling both burdened by reminiscing all those sweet memories that I knew were in a whole different world now and at the same time, rejoiced at re-living them one more time. Lane seemed fairly interested, she knew very little about World Wide Entertainment, but had heard about some of the legends in the business, like The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin.

"There's a TV in the cafeteria, why don't you watch a match sometime?" my companion suggested and a shadow of envy flashed over my already disfigured and frightening face.

"I don't think I could take it…" I denied quietly, yet with a hint of softness "But you can check it out, it's fun. Say, how's Jill going?"

"She's under observation in one of the white rooms." Lane murmured heavily, covering me up with a blanket "She'll be fine…and so will you. Remember, there's an angel out there, looking for you."

I sighed and breathed in the sweet air that came from the garden when the windows were opened wide, then shifted my gaze on the flowers beside me:

"I've found her."

"Do you think…" Lane gazed at the stars dreamingly, in a trance, as the wind played with her hair, making it resemble sun-burned autumn brown leaves, dancing in the air and softly caressing it, like an old-time friend. "Do you think that one day I can fly like the dove that gave you comfort?"

"I'm sure you can do anything you want to." I replied, hardly feeling anything but the heavy weight of the tiredness and the shameless need to sleep another lovely night away. Lane stood by my window for a moment, completely silent and still, only the sound of her dress touching the walls, hissing at them as if they were made out of needles and were scarring the pretty silk fabric, raping it out of its charm and purity, making it feel out of place in this whole situation. In a moment, Lane gave out a deep sigh and closed the windows, then turned to me with her usual smile:

"If you have trouble sleeping, listen to some music, it always works for me."

"I'd rather you sing me something. I can sing along too, but I think my drugs are kicking in so I'm a little slow at the moment…" she ruffled my hair and sang quietly:

"_You could be my someone  
You could be my sea  
You know that I will save you  
From all of the unclean  
I wonder what you're doing  
I wonder where you are  
There's oceans in between us  
But that's not very far__…"_


End file.
